LET ME BREATHE, page 21
Hoyt Hollis and his granddaughter, Trina.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Morning sunlight streamed through the cracked windshield of the SUV as Ashley veered into the parking lot of the Sparks County Medical Center. She couldn’t wait to get up to Wyatt’s room. She was looking forward to seeing the expression on his face when he heard the news that Trina and her grandfather were the owners of the property Savendyne had chosen for their new chemical plant. And although Ashley had yet to find a link, she felt certain that Daphne was also connected to the facility’s construction.
It seemed like the killer wanted to punish the women he held responsible for bringing the new source of toxic waste to Sparks County. Now that they had a solid lock on a motive for the murders, they were better equipped to uncover the killer’s identity.
Using TBI channels, she’d requested an employee roster for the Tennessee Savendyne plant from the parent office in Atlanta. She’d received an email stating that the list would be in her hands by lunchtime.
As she angled into a space between a gray sedan and a white pickup, Ashley’s cell phone rang. She guessed that it was Brenda calling for an update on the investigation and on Wyatt’s condition. Ashley was thankful that she had positive information to report—on both topics.
Unlatching her seatbelt, she fished the phone from her jacket pocket. It wasn’t Brenda. Instead, the words No Caller ID flashed on the screen.
With Daniel working undercover, it was possible that he might be calling from a blocked number, even on a Saturday morning. And she didn’t want to miss a chance to speak with him.
“Hello,” she answered, hoping that she wouldn’t be greeted by a telemarketing sales pitch.
A clicking noise echoed on the other end of the line, followed by the eerie staccato tones of a computer-generated voice.
“You. Will. Die. Soon.”
The caller broke the connection.
A chill raced down Ashley’s spine.
The call had to have come from the person who’d left the identical message on the windshield of her sedan at her home in Briarwood. Had they followed her to Sparks County? Were they watching her at that very moment?
Her eyes flew across the parking lot, searching for someone who seemed out of place. All the vehicles near her appeared to be empty. An elderly couple walked toward the hospital’s entrance, and a woman, holding the hand of a young child, had just strolled out of the building. Ashley didn’t see anyone else around.
The threat had obviously been meant to scare her. Was the caller bold enough to attack her in the parking lot in broad daylight?
It was likely Ethan Barrett’s family who wanted her dead. And the members of the Barrett clan were known to be accomplished hunters and marksmen. One of them could easily pick her off with a hunting rifle from 500 yards away.
With her guard up, Ashley pushed open the door of the SUV and slid out. On impulse, her hand snapped to the grip of her holstered Glock as she scanned the lot. But since she was dressed in plain clothes, she forced her arms to her sides. She didn’t want to risk striking fear into the heart of a citizen who might realize that she was carrying a weapon.
Still on high alert, she cut across the lot and made a beeline toward the main entrance of the hospital. As she edged between two parked SUVs, she heard a male voice call out from behind her.
“Ashley.”
She whirled around, her hand flying back to her Glock.
Deputy Foster strode toward her. Her pulse returned to normal as he approached. She hoped that he hadn’t noticed her overreaction at hearing her name called.
“How’s Wyatt?” Foster asked her, concern clear on his face.
One thing held true for cops, regardless of their department, agency, or jurisdiction: when a member of law enforcement went down in the line of duty, the officers left standing pulled together like family. They donated blood, sat vigil, and offered anything else that was needed.
She smiled. “He’s doing really well. And the doctor said that he’ll be back on his feet in a few weeks.”
“That’s good to hear,” Foster stated, nodding. “I thought I’d drop in and sit with him for a bit.”
“I know that he’ll be glad to see you.”
Ashley fell into step with Foster as they hit the sidewalk. Up ahead, the automatic doors leading into the hospital’s lobby whooshed open. She spotted a familiar figure walking out.
“There’s someone here that I need to talk to,” she told Foster as she slowed her pace. “Let Wyatt know that I’ll be up to see him in a little while.”
“Will do.”
The elderly woman who’d exited the lobby smiled in recognition as Ashley approached.
“Hello, Mrs. Porter. How’s your granddaughter this morning?”
“Wonderful,” the woman replied, her face lighting up. “And I have a seven-pound, nine-ounce great-granddaughter now.”
“Congratulations.”
Birdie pulled her phone from her purse.
“She was born with a full head of dark hair,” the woman stated, angling her phone’s screen toward Ashley. “And just look at her eyes, so big and bright.”
Ashley nodded and smiled as Birdie swiped through the photos she’d taken of the newborn with her phone’s camera.
“She’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I believe she’s inherited the Tomlinson genes.”
Birdie slid her phone back into her purse. “Did you drive out here looking for me?”
Although Ashley had come to visit Wyatt, she was glad that she’d run into the local historian. Birdie seemed to be aware of just about everything that went on in the county. Maybe she had information regarding Savendyne’s purchase of the Hollis’s property. And knowledge of who might have stood in opposition to the sale.
“Not exactly,” Ashley said. She motioned toward a concrete bench to her right. “But I do have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”
A chill from the cool concrete seeped through the seat of her jeans as Ashley settled onto the bench next to Birdie.
“Yesterday, you mentioned that Savendyne is doing so well that they’re expanding. Do you know anything about the new plant they’re building?”
Birdie nodded. “They’re creating 150 additional jobs for Sparks County.”
Ashley paused, waiting for the woman to elaborate, hoping that Birdie would offer more than just reciting the local newspaper’s headline. She didn’t.
“Did anyone ever protest against the plans to open the new factory?”
The woman shook her head. “Our county has a dire need for more employment. Savendyne Chemicals and Broderick Paper Mill are our life’s blood. Without those industries, our town would die.”
Ashley now realized the positive economic impact that the new facility would have on the area. And it stood to reason that most of the locals would welcome the addition. But at least one person wanted to stop the deal in its tracks.
“No one ever demonstrated against the toxic waste the plant would generate?”
“Heavens no,” Birdie said with a chuckle. “This is Tomlinson, Tennessee. Not Nashville.”
She patted Ashley’s knee in a grandmotherly fashion.
Birdie continued, “Everyone who lives here loves these mountains and our rural way of life. Preserving the land is extremely important, but we have to weigh the pros and cons of bringing in more industry. It’s true that Savendyne will increase the amount of waste in our landfill. But the hard fact is that families are more worried about how they’ll put food on their tables and clothe their children. In order to be able to afford to stay here, the locals realize that we have to accept the bad with the good.”
Ashley could relate to the reasoning. Decent paying jobs stood few and far between in her own hometown. Many of the residents of Laurel County lived in poverty. But the mountains where she’d been raised boasted clean air and water. And she knew that her father and brothers wouldn’t trade that for anything.
“Thank you for taking the time to talk with me,” she said.
Her gut screamed to Ashley that the killer was someone who wanted to harm those responsible for locating the new plant in Sparks County. Maybe believing that if the bodies stacked up, he could put a halt to the construction. But it seemed clear that Birdie didn’t possess any information that would lead to the killer.
As Ashley started to rise from the bench, a final question struck her.
“You said that Pryecorp had bigger problems than the fire Jarvis had started. But you never told me and Wyatt the reason the company closed.”
Ashley had assumed the failure of the business was due to financial mismanagement, but she wanted to make sure.
Birdie met her gaze. “That’s a long and complicated story.”
The statement—as well as the expression on the woman’s face—piqued Ashley’s curiosity.
“I’d like to hear it if you don’t mind telling me.”
Birdie nodded and then glanced over her shoulder as though she was making sure that no one would overhear their conversation.
“A woman died,” she said.
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Stunned by Birdie Porter’s words, Ashley leaned toward the elderly woman as they sat on the concrete bench in front of the Sparks County Medical Center. Now she understood the reason Birdie had not wanted their conversation to be overheard. A snippet could be misunderstood, taken out of context, twisted around, and then spread through the county like wildfire.
“A woman was killed at Pryecorp?” Ashley asked, her voice low.
She wondered whether a piece of equipment had malfunctioned, resulting in the employee’s death. Maybe the Prye brothers had fudged on the safety requirements.
Birdie shook her head. “No, she didn’t die at the plant. She suffered through a very cruel and painful death.”
“What happened to her?”
After glancing over her shoulder again, Birdie continued. “The Prye brothers took advantage of her.”
A blast of disgust hit Ashley.
“You mean they raped her?”
“No, no,” Birdie said. “They didn’t abuse her sexually. She had some form of a mild mental disability, and they took advantage of it. They kept her working in an area where the other employees refused to go.”
“What type of area?”
Images of a dark, dank, closed-in space flooded Ashley’s thoughts.
“Pryecorp manufactured a chemical called furanone. They sold it to the paper mill. It was so dangerous that it was outlawed in the United States over a decade ago. There was one point in the production process where an employee had to come in direct contact with it.”
“And that’s where the Prye brothers forced her to work.”
“Yes, poor thing.”
Ashley could see where this story was going. The chemical exposure had obviously led to the woman’s death.
Birdie sighed. “At first, she broke out into a rash. But the Prye brothers told her that it was to be expected and not serious. With her mental defect, she believed them. And even after she developed neurological problems, she still believed them. Her health continued to deteriorate, but she kept working. She was finally diagnosed with ALS. She died two years later.”
Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. Ashley had once read the fatal disease was linked to the handling of toxic chemicals.
A realization jolted her.
“Isn’t ALS the disease where a person becomes completely paralyzed?” she asked.
“Yes. That’s right. And at the end, their diaphragm muscles stop working. They lose the ability to breathe.”
Goosebumps broke out on Ashley’s arms. Now, she understood.
The killer was recreating the Pryecorp employee’s death!
First, he’d paralyzed Hannah, Trina, and Daphne with quazodine. Then he’d stolen their breath, strangling them with the garrote.
Law enforcement had never released the method the killer had used in the toxic waste murders. Not being privy to the information, Birdie didn’t realize that she’d just provided a major clue to solve the case.
“Did the Prye brothers go to jail for what they did to her?”
A prison sentence would explain the reason that they’d sold the building and equipment to Savendyne.
Birdie shook her head. “Things were different back then. An attorney here in town found out about what had happened. He represented the woman in a lawsuit. But he couldn’t prove that it was the furanone that cause her illness. The Prye brothers settled out of court. And then they packed up and left town.”
Ashley hoped that the woman had received a hefty sum. But even if the settlement had totaled millions, the amount wouldn’t be enough compensation for the loss of her life. Especially considering the horrible way in which she’d died.
“Do you remember the woman’s name?”
“Judith Fowler. I didn’t know her personally, and neither did any of my friends. But we all followed the case.”
Upon hearing the woman’s name, adrenaline rushed through Ashley’s body. Did the letter J the killer had signed at the murder scenes stand for Judith? She’d originally thought that the killer had left his own initial, or that maybe the letter stood for Justice. Now, Ashley realized the signature was likely a testament to the woman who had died.
“Was Judith married? Did she have any children?”
It had become obvious that the killer was a loved one of the deceased Savendyne employee. And maybe still worked at the company himself.
Ashley could see the gears of Birdie’s mind turning.
“You believe that the person who killed Daphne is related to Judith,” she stated.
Not willing to confirm or deny Birdie’s suspicion, Ashley responded with a slight smile.
Based on the expression that flashed across the woman’s face, it seemed to be answer enough.
Birdie nodded, as though to herself. “The only family that she had was a nephew. From what I recall, she’d raised him after his parents died. Her attorney had the bulk of the settlement put into a trust for the boy. So that he’d have a guaranteed income for the rest of his life.”
“What’s the name of Judith’s nephew?”
“That, I don’t know. The boy was only seventeen at the time of the settlement. Since he was a minor, they kept his name out of the paper. And I heard through the grapevine that the attorney moved him up north somewhere. To shield the boy from the publicity. He’d be almost forty years old today.”
“Do you know the lawyer’s name?”
Birdie smiled as though recalling a fond memory. “It was Milton Surratt. A fine, upstanding man. But he passed away several years ago.”
Ashley heard ringing from inside Birdie’s purse.
The woman pulled out her phone and checked the screen. “It’s my sister calling from Chattanooga.”
“I won’t keep you,” Ashley said, rising from the bench. “Thank you for your help.”
“If there’s anything else you want to discuss, feel free to visit me.”
It didn’t take a detective to tell that Birdie was anxious to get the inside scoop on the murders. And as a reward for the information she’d provided, once the case closed, Ashley would relay all the details that she was allowed to divulge.
Eager to share the news about Judith with her partner, Ashley glanced up toward the third floor of the hospital, where she knew Wyatt’s room was located. But instead of heading inside the building, she turned and scanned the parking lot.
Nothing unusual caught her attention. And at the moment, she lacked the eerie telltale feeling that she was being watched. She trotted toward Wyatt’s SUV.
Shaken by the threatening phone call she’d received, she’d forgotten and left the mobile tablet in the vehicle. Ashley wanted to nail down a lead on the woman’s nephew before she spoke with Wyatt. Although Birdie recalled that the nephew had moved out of state, it was possible that he’d returned to Sparks County after his eighteenth birthday.
Ashley hopped inside the driver’s seat of the SUV and fired up the tablet. The only information she had to go on was Judith’s name, and the name of the county where she’d died and had likely been buried. Ashley pointed her browser to the Find A Grave website. During her time at the police academy, she’d learned the website held a treasure trove of information.
On the landing page, she typed in Judith’s first and last name. She clicked on the box for the cemetery location and typed in Sparks County, Tennessee. When she hit search, the listing for Judith’s gravesite popped onto the screen. Her body had been interred in the local Evergreen Cemetery.
Ashley scrolled down past the photo of the woman’s simple grave marker. Judith’s family members who had also passed away were listed below. In addition to her parents and grandparents, two sisters had preceded her in death. Both several years older than Judith. Which woman had been the mother of her nephew?
According to the date of their deaths, it would have been possible for either of her elder sisters to have left a young child behind for Judith to raise. Both women had been married, their husbands also deceased. Ashley switched to her investigation notes in the TBI database and jotted down the sisters’ names.
As she slid the tablet back into the carrying case, her cell phone dinged. She’d received an email. It was from the Savendyne Chemicals headquarters in Atlanta.
Clicking on her inbox, Ashley opened the pdf attachment. She began searching through the roster of Savendyne’s Sparks County employees. A little more than halfway down the list, she stopped reading.
A wave of hope engulfed her.
Ashley had just hit pay dirt.
CHAPTER FORTY THREE
Ashley checked the rearview mirror of the SUV, making sure that Deputy Foster’s police cruiser was still visible behind her on the twisty mountain road. As she sped toward Sparks County’s eastern border, she fought to temper the level of excitement growing in her chest. Reminding herself that it was possible she was following another false lead. That she would hit another dead end.
